It makes no sense, and does a lot.

I got home to Florida on Thursday night, around 8pm EDT. It is now Satuday around 9:30 pm EDT. I have barely been here for 2 days and I just want to leave. I miss Chicago, though not all of it. I miss something, someone. I miss my life.

It may sound silly, but I miss my apartment, and my bed, and my job, and my freedom, and my happiness. I miss my room there. I picked where I would live and what was in it; but here, everything was already here. This room is the room of whom my mom thinks I am, but it’s not me. This house is not where I want to be, where I want to stay.

Home is where the heart is, but mine is not here. My heart is not in Chicago, and it’s certainly not here. I promised to go to Puerto Rico in September, and that’s not home; but my grandma’s will always be. Home to me has always been when my stuff is. But right now, home – the place I long for – is a place I have never been. It seems I may have left my heart behind.

I am really tired. I can’t really get any rest. I haven’t been able to settle in, and I don’t want to. I keep telling myself that this is temporary, but the more I tell myself the more I feel like I am lying. I need to go; I have known it for a long time. I need to get away, from here, from eveything I know. I need somewhere new, somewhere boundless. I need to find him, again.

I wasn’t looking for anything, and thus I didn’t see. But while I wasn’t looking, I found him. And when I knew him, I was gone.